The Boy in the Alley
by Irish Maiden16
Summary: Batman comforts an eight year old witness of a homicide; not realizing that the same boy will one day become a part of his crusade.


**The Boy in the Alley **

* * *

_It began that night with two shots in the dark. A mother screaming her last breath as death strikes her heart._

_It was just a familiar murder. _

_The foreboding scene of a narrow litter-filled alley way. The smell of gun powder. The stench of spilled blood seeping through the cracks of the unsettling pavement._

_ Everything was familiar. Everything was dark, morbid and forsaken._

A GCPD cruiser was parked at the entrance of South Faith Street, Lt. Jim Gordon was sitting in the passenger's seat, his weary blue eyes scanning over the written report of the forensic's team leader. The cause of death was simple and effective. A discharged projectile from a firearm entered through the victim's chest. The internal organs ruptured at the impact of clean shots. She died quickly. He released a shaky exhaled and leaned back against the seat, lifting up a cup of coffee and taking a few sips. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to release the tension building through his veins. His eyes adjusted their focus, he watched the CSI team collecting the visible evidence of the homicide. Bullet casings. Spilled contents of a woman's purse. Blood spatters on her white blouse.

_It was just another murder to write up and add into the collection of case files stored in archives of the MCU. Just another victim of merciless crime to become the newest attention of nearby cemetery.  
_

Gordon gazed at the lifeless body with disdain welling in his eyes. A twenty-eight year old mother from the Old Town district. She was a flawless beauty, silky blonde hair and delicate features. He knew deep inside, she would become just a fading memory. He shook his head grimly. "Just a waste of life," he muttered faintly under his breath, taking another sip of his coffee.

Suddenly, he felt the ghostly presence of a wraith brush over his body. He shifted his eyes to the shadows and saw him standing like a statue, cloaked in darkness as he movements became somber. The menacing shadow of the bat projected off the brick wall as the red and blue lights of squad cars flashed throughout the enclosed area. Batman entered the crime scene, standing a few feet away from the flapping yellow police line. Gordon settled his coffee on the dashboard and stepped out of the vehicle.

"Cause of death?" A deep baritone asked with a raspy whisper escaping the vigilante's mouth. His piercing emerald -hazel eyes stared at the body carefully being tuck away into a blue bag.

"Two bullets. Point of entry was the victims chest." Gordon replied, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. "This murder will the second one of the week. The suspect is highly efficient with his killings. He leaves no trace. No finger prints." He lowered his head down. "He left the boy alive."

"Boy," Batman growled, feeling a sudden ache in his chest. He shifted his dark eyes on a small child who appeared to be around the age of eight. He was sitting against the wall, head tucked between his knees. A victim of stolen innocence.

When Gordon stared at this masked ally for a moment, he saw the humanity concealed behind the fierce exterior of harden graphite. He saw the heart beyond the bat symbol. "The boy is the victim's son." he answered.

"Name?" Batman asked with softness in his disguised voice.

"He won't answer any questions from my detectives. It's almost like he refuses to talk."

Batman narrowed his eyes before saying with defiance in his voice "He'll talk to me."

"You?" Gordon gasped out, before he could comply Batman swiftly moved passed the crime scene, his long cloak dragging over the murky puddles. The dark vigilante stopped and looked at the ashen face of the child's mother. Cold and soulless. He clenched his eyes shut for a moment, trying to regain his inner strength as the vivid images of his parents murdered skimmed through his mind.

_Suddenly he was eight year old again, exiting through the back door of the Gotham Opera house, watching his father assist his mother with her fur coat, while he felt his tiny body tremble. The nightmarish images of the bats in darkness of the well engulfed his mind. He was having a panic attack. He turned his light hazel eyes and sated the smoke rising from the grates, the decaying trash piled in the shadowy corners. Everything reeked of dread.  
_

_"What's wrong Bruce," Martha Wayne asked her son with concern in her hazel eyes. Thomas stepped down giving Bruce as light smile._

_"No it was my fault. I need just need a little fresh air." he said," A bit of opera goes a long way, right, Bruce?" Bruce looked up at his father, Thomas winked. " What say we take a little walk?"_

_Bruce slightly nodded yes._

_The Wayne family began strode through the narrow alley way, Bruce was safe between his body, as he kept his eyes low and tried to fight off the intense waves of his fear. Then, in the shadow cast by Wayne Tower, Bruce saw something move and a moment later a man emerged from the darkness and approached them. He was tall and young, dressed with grimly tattered clothing. His face was frail and scared, and he was pointing something at them that gleamed in the orange glow of the nearby streetlamp.  
_

_"Wallet, jewelry-fast!" The man bellowed, his shaky hand pointing the gun at Thomas Wayne's chest._

_Thomas kept his composure calm. "That's fine, just take it easy." He said, standing between the thug and his family. He shrugged out his overcoat and handed to Bruce with a assuring gaze gleaming in his dark blue eyes.  
_

_"Hurry up," the thug demanded._

_Thomas took his wallet beneath his jacket and extended it. "Here you, go." he said. "Take it."_

_The man grabbed at the wallet with a shaking hand and missed, and the wallet fell. _

_"It's fine, it fine." Thomas said, in the same tone of voice he used when he pulled Bruce from the well. The thug knelt on the pavement and groped for the wallet. Bruce's eyes widen as he stared at the gun. A weapon that was created for one purpose. An image he had seen through newspaper articles._

_The gun was shaking._

_The man retrieved the wallet and shoved it into a pocket. "Just take it and go," Thomas spoke gently._

_The thug stood and shifted his cold gaze to Martha," I said jewelry, too." His eyes narrowed at her diamond engagement ring and lifted to the white orbs latched around her graceful neck. Martha began to pull off her ring. Thomas took a courageous step toward the man.  
_

_"Hey, just-"_

_Bruce froze in dread, he saw the gun twitch and in the same instant he heard the sound like thunder booming in the sky. Puzzled, he turned to his father for an explanation. Thomas was becoming pale and his eyes stared down at the crimson splotch on his snowy white shirt. that spread outward from a small, black hole._

_Thomas crumpled, as through as his bones had dissolved at once. He fall to the pavement, landing hard on his back gasping from breath. Martha screamed. "Thomas!" The man reached for the strand of pearls around her neck. She pulled back, protecting Bruce with her body and felt the warm tears slipping out of her eyes.  
_

_"Give me the damn pearls." The man growled, grasping her neck, the gun twitched and there was the explosive sound of thunder again. The thug curled his boney fingers around the pearl and yanked. The necklace broke. Pearls spilled past Bruce's face and clattered lightly on the pavement. Rolling into the small puddles of blood.  
_

_Bruce stared into the man's merciless and desperate eyes. He gulped down, and started to felt the heated moisture build behind his eyes. Each drop that roll down his cheek was filled with his innocence. He stood motionless, looking at the monster who pulled the trigger. The man jerked, as though he had been stung, and spun and fleeted back into the shadows.  
_

_It seemed like he was trapped within eternity, he lowered his teary eyes down and stared at his father's colorless face. He heard a groan and knelt down so he was close to his father. His hero. His protector.  
_

_"Bruce," Thomas choked out, raising a cold hand to his son's shoulder. "Don't be afraid." He smiled at Bruce, then slowly closed his eyes. Bruce slammed his eyes shut, listening to the last breath of his father. He opened them, sitting among the bodies of his loving parents, gathering up the blood stain pearls and holding them close to his heart._

_"I'm sorry," he sobbed, feeling the coldness of the night air crept over his stricken form. "Please come back..."_

Batman opened his eyes, and moved closer to the darkening umbra sculpting over a boy. He stood there listening to the sounds of a heart breaking. He narrowed his eyes, watching the tears stain the child's shirt. The same tears he released from his parents died. "Do you mind if..." His voice was faltering.

The dark haired boy lifted his head, and stared at the Batman with teary ice blue eyes. Shattered emotions were etched across his fair features. He swiped the tears from under his eyes and nodded.

Batman sat down beside him. "You don't have to talk." He said, using the normal tone of the man behind the bat. His voice was whisper gentle. A comfort for this darkening hour.

The boy lowered his head back down. "It was my fault," he sobbed. "If I hadn't run away...she would still be here."

"Listen to me." Batman said, looking at the tears rolling off the child's chin. "It wasn't your fault. I know you can't understand now. But you will, one day." He paused in his words, feeling a jab in his heart. "You feel responsible for her death...your anger will come and consume your guilt. You can choose not to allow it to."

"How?" the boy sniffled. "That man took her from me. He deserved to die."

"Vengeance only causes more pain." Batman replied, softly. "It becomes a poison in your veins. You're angry right now because she gone. The truth is she will never leave you. She will always be there...through memory."

The boy bore a sullen gaze into Batman, staring at the tender eyes through the dark slits of the mask. He swallowed thickly, watching the body of his mother being loaded into the back of an ambulance. He quivered slightly feeling the coldness seep through his bones. "I miss her." he cried. "I miss her so much."

Batman looked down at the boy. This child was the same age of eight year old Bruce Wayne. It was almost like he was staring back into a glimmer of the past. He saw the boy's body tremble. Instantly with a faint sigh, he detached his cape and wrapped it around the boy. He placed his gloved hand on the child's shoulder. "I know." He said. "Everything is going to be alright." He assured with a sliver of a smile crossed over his firm lips. "You're going to be okay..."

"Timothy," the boy replied, looking directly up at Batman's face. "My name is Timothy."

"Timothy," Batman repeated, ruffling up the child's thick hair. "You're going to fine, kid."

Timothy wrapped the cape tightly over his body before saying in a tiny voice, "Will you stay with me, Batman? I feel so alone."

Batman nodded gently, looking at Gordon who was standing a few feet away with a slight smile crossing over his bristled covered mouth. He settled his eyes back on the eight year boy and whispered out truthful words into the foggy air.

"You're never alone."


End file.
